


How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

by PrincessMeganFire



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Apocalypse
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gay Bar, Grief, M/M, Mentions of Westview, Post Alex's death, Post DoFP, Song: Pompeii (Bastille), Tumblr request, Tumblr: PrincessMeganFire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:35:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMeganFire/pseuds/PrincessMeganFire
Summary: "So I wanted to request a silverhavok song fic with Pompeii by bastille (I know, cliche) but I was listening to the song a few days ago and I started picturing them?) Of course you don't have to write it if you don't wanna!"Peter knew Alex before he died, and whilst Hank is trying to help his broken leg, Peter can't keep their relationship hidden any longer.
Relationships: Alex Summers & Eric Gitter & Evan Daniels, Pietro Maximoff & Hank McCoy, Pietro Maximoff/Alex Summers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I went online to try and find people's own interpretations of what the song means and there were a few that suggested the main idea was that it was about looking back on something you've lost and learning to accept it, so this fic is loosely based on the song, but not directly if you know what I mean

It finally hit him - Alex was dead. 

Fighting for his life, fighting for other mutants lives, fighting for all the humans lives, Peter realised it had never even crossed his mind once. Now, being laid here, surrounded by people he'd only known for a few days, he realised that the one of the few people he'd ever truly loved wasn't there with him. 

Because he'd killed him.

Hank said it wasn't his fault, and so did Charles. Raven said it wasn't his fault, and even Scott didn't believe Peter was to blame. But he knew otherwise. He knew what people said when they were grieving, as long as some big fight didn't break out it was all going to be okay.

It wasn't okay.

XX~•~•XX

"Alex would never have blamed you." The words seemed to just mingle in the air, not quite reaching Peter's ears. The man lay flat out on his back, broken leg holstered up, blank expression boring into the ceiling panels. "He just wasn't like that."

"I know exactly what he was like." Peter whispered, turning his head gently to face Hank. "I wanted to marry him." Hank stared at Peter uncertainly, shifting in his plastic chair beside the hospital bed. 

A minute of awkward silence. Two. Three had passed before Hank spoke up again. "Did you know him before?" It was a stupid question, and Hank sounded like he knew it, but how were you supposed to respond to what Peter had said? Nobody knew that Peter had any connection to Alex before the explosion, this was a lot to take in. 

The boy nodded, turning to face to the ceiling once more. "I met him when I was twenty, he probably thought I was just an annoying kid back then," he chuckled slightly to himself. "Alex was twenty-nine, nearly thirty, I remember him complaining about getting old." Hank smiled at Peter, eyes wet and his chest heaving - it was nice to hear about his friend, even if it had to be like this. 

"I didn't realise you'd known him before," Hank whispered, running a hand through his hair. "He never mentioned you." Peter shrugged. "Why would he? He met me after Vietnam and didn't even talk to you guys since. Man, if I had known he was a part of the guys who got me involved in a prison break, you would probably have found out before now." Even though he was laughing and smiling, Hank could see the pain flashing over Peter's eyes. He could see the way he was trying his hardest not the let the tears flow, terrified of blinking for even a second in case one slipped.

"He meant everything to me," he whispered.

XX~•~•XX

He knew his mother meant well, she always did, but it did sometimes feel more like lecturing and punishing than parenting. Admittedly, most women with twenty-year-old sons aren't still parenting them, but Peter's always been a bit more difficult than most. He even acknowledges it, so maybe that's a step in the right direction.

Either way, whether he sill lives with her or not, Peter knew it was completely unfair for her to just ban him from going to a bar - he's an adult for gods sake! And is not like he completely lives off her - he pays rent too! But if Magda refused to unlock her door for him tonight after taking his key, well then, Peter will just have to find a nice man to take him home, he supposed, prove her wrong. 

The bar he'd found himself at wasn't too shabby, nice little circular wooden tables as most had, a fully functioning bar and plenty of people there. Of course, Peter generally stuck to the regular bars around his house and in his town, but tonight Magda had really pissed him off, so time to express the side of him that really pissed her off. 

There was a banner up on one of the walls, a birthday message for one of the bartenders, 'Happy birthday Anna! 31 on September 8th 1976' in big red letters, lots of signatures of the other co-workers and even regulars at the bar below. Peter stared at it wistfully for a moment or two before turning, ready to embrace the scene as his own.

It seemed, Peter discovered, that this was exactly his scene, and he found himself wandering why he'd never come down here before. He'd always known where it was, knew the sort of people that attended, so how come he'd never thought it check it out himself? Well, better late than never. 

One hand, tall with dark hair and completely shirtless, sweat dripping down his toned body. Another, skinny little twink he was, brown bushy hair and little circular glasses. A third, dressed in drag, taller than Peter in those gorgeous heels, and also the only one to pay for his drink at the time. Many more came and went, dancing with him, drinking with him, asking for his number for a call he'll never make. It felt like magic. 

An hour in and the strobe lights broke. A half after that and they were back on. Within two more hours a fight had broken out, some straight man trying to dance with one of the lesbians - a real tough one at that, Peter admired for her putting up a fight, and admired her even more for winning. The girl she'd been drinking with seemed very impressed, and clearly that had pushed things further between those two, Peter was sure he saw fingers sliding around places they would be punished for in any other bar. 

After four hours, the clock slowly sliding past 1am, three men wandered in. Usually this wouldn't catch Peter's eye - plenty of men and women and theys and thems had entered since he'd first turned up, but these three had a certain presence that drew most eyes over to them. Around each of their necks hung dog tags from the army, and Peter suddenly knew why all eyes were on them. Two seemed to bask in it, the one stood in the middle did not. Peter decided that he was the one he wanted. 

The three approached the bar just a little way off from where Peter was sitting, the one in the front ordering for all of them. He was definitely a mutant, Peter decided, if the spikes protruding from his skull was anything to go by. He reckoned another was too, or maybe he just liked having strange tattoos across the eye sockets. And if those two were mutants, its fairly reasonable to assume the middle, the one Peter was after, was one as well. All the better for him. 

After ordering the drinks, it appeared that all three men were splitting up. Peter watched the first with spikes in his head walk over to one of the drag queens, and then the one with tattoos went over to some lively skinny lad in the corner. Luckily for Peter, the one he'd set his eyes on was still sat at the bar, however, he clearly wasn't the only one with eyes for the man - time to see if he really was a mutant. 

A brief gush of wind was all the man felt before Peter stood right next to him, ordering another lager. "You're going to be off your feet before you know it," the bartender joked, handing him the glass. "Well, that's the plan." Peter smirked, sipping lightly as he handed her the money. "Hey, you see that girl over there? Purple hair?" The bartender leaned over. Peter turned and stared, spotting immediately the girl the bartender was talking about. "Get her to come over here and the next two are on me." Peter grinned, blasting off the grab the girl - no way could he pass up the opportunity to get free drinks. 

The girl laughed as Peter began to pull her over, very friendly and very tispy. "She is kinda cute," the girl slurred, looping her arm through Peters. "Sure is, and she definitely thinks you're cute too." Peter replied as they reached the bar. Just as promised, the bartender had two lagers waiting for him and immediately began chatting up the girl Peter had pulled up.

"Hey, you want one? I was gonna stop drinking after this one anyway," Peter grinned, nudging the man he'd been eying with his elbow. The guy beside him smiled and nodded, taking a large gulp before speaking. "Thanks, I'm Alex." So he was shy, Peter discovered, or maybe just nervous - maybe it's his first time to one of these too, or at least since coming back from wherever he'd fought.

"Peter," he replied, grinning widely. "First time?" Alex let out a low chuckle. "Is it that obvious?" Peter watched intently as his sleeve rolled up gently, revealing muscle Peter could practically see through his shirt. "Nah, you're good man. Besides, its my first time to one of these gigs, too." Alex looked almost shocked at his statement. "Seriously? This seems right up your street, I'm mostly just here 'cause my friends come here a lot. Its the first time I've actually given in." He began to laugh slightly, and Peter decided that was a sound he definitely wanted to hear more of. 

"So, you guys war vets? Which war?" Peter nodded towards the dog tags. 'Alexander Summers', they read. Peter could get used to that name. "Vietnam, me, Gitter and Daniels over there." He pointed out his friends he'd walked in with. "Their names are Gitter and Daniels?" Peter bit back a snort. "Eric Gitter and Evan Daniels; we all just call each other by our surnames?" Peter glanced back over to where Gitter was standing. "Is he sure that's what he wants to go by?" This time he didn't bother to hold back that snort.

XX~•~•XX

It wasn't much, but it was a job all the same. Peter seemed to have a habit of losing jobs, and often took up multiple jobs at the same time to make up for it. For example: today was his first day on the job of doing paper rounds, a job taken up every morning from six to eight. It wasn't anything too unusual - he'd had this job in high school to help pay back for various damages he'd caused. 

It was mostly kids you'd see doing this sort of job, kids on bikes, but seeing as Peter hated biking with a passion and was not a kid or a teenager any more, he simply walked it. It was nice to take it slow sometimes, especially when nobody's there to bother you and don't realise exactly how slow you're going - it was nice not to be trapped inside his own head.

Peter smiled and grinned and chatted to every person at every door, petted the dogs, had a little joke around with the kids, it was hard not to like him, no matter how annoying he was. Everyone seemed to just like him, or at least enjoy his company for the brief few minutes he was stood on his porch. It was a nice change.

"Hey Gitt, you're papers here!" Peter tried not to hope too badly when he recognised the face on the other side of the door for his last house - one of the war vets from the bar last year. Admittedly he hadn't seen them there since, though according to the bartender (whose name he had learned was Eliana, now dating the pink-haired girl, another friend Peter had made named Shelley) they were regulars just as he'd turned out to be. Most days he'd either just missed them or left too early, and there were a few where they didn't even go on the same day. It was a little annoying, Peter would admit, but it didn't mean he didn't have fun on his own without Alex's company, in fact most of these men seemed more fun than the shy blond... so why was Peter always so upset to have missed him?

"Hey man, I swear I've seen you before." It was the guy with spikes on his head, he'd opened the door. Clearly he didn't care about people seeing his mutation, but then again he'd also put his life on the line for a country that wouldn't give him the time of day - perhaps you sort of stop caring after something like that. "You know what? I was actually just thinking that," Peter chuckled. "Ever go to Myla's in Westview?" The guys eyes lit up. "Ah, yes! Me and the guys go there all the time! I don't remember you being there too often though." Peter shrugged. "Must have just missed each other-"

"Peter?" The guy in the door - so what if Peter remembered Alex's name and not this guys? You couldn't hold it against him - turned to face a man Peter knew within an instant. Admittedly, not much had changed about Alex in the best part of a year, though he was clearly growing his hair out, kind of like a hair cut Peter had had in high school, which, looking back, was bloody awful, but it certainly suited Alex. 

"Oh, hey man!" Peter grinned, leaning against the doorframe. The guy with spikes smirked and began to move into another room with the newspaper. "I'll let you guys catch up..." He wiggled his eyebrows and dodged a jokey punch Alex threw at him. "Fuck off, Daniels." Alex chuckled quietly. 

"So, this is where you live, huh? Nice place." Peter smiled, suddenly very unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. "Yeah, bought it just a couple of weeks ago. We were all gonna go our separate ways earlier on, but we never got round to it." Alex shrugged, moving closer still. "This is your job." Peter shook his head, his cheeks reddening. "Only one of them - I never finished high school..." He trailed off meekly, eyes now searching anywhere other than Alex's face. Alex clearly noticed. "Me neither man, I barely even started. I got locked up in my freshman year." The way Alex spoke, his facially expression, none of it showed any shame or embarrassment, or even regret. Peter wished he felt the same way about his high school experience. "How come? If you don't mind telling, that is-" Alex laughed again, a little bit brighter now, his eyes brightening too. "No worries man, you can ask. But yeah, my mutation didn't exactly come out in the most subtle of ways. On the plus side, my dick of a boyfriend back then got what was coming for him. I never used to think like that, blamed myself for everything, but later on I got fostered by a pretty large family, and I had a sister there, and she helped me work through most of the repressed trauma." Not once did Alex stutter, not once did his eyes leave Peter's, not once did he act ashamed or scared of what he'd done or anything of the words he'd said. Peter wanted that confidence, and if he couldn't have it for himself, he at least wanted the guy who had it to be using it around him.

"Hey Summers, either invite him in or let him go, its fucking freezing! Shut the motherfucking door!" Gitter's voice shouted. Both the men in the door laughed awkwardly. "So..." Alex trailed off, standing off to the side slightly. "Want to come in?"

XX~•~•XX

"Why wouldn't they have told me about this? They should have told me about this!" Alex's head fell into his eyes as he groaned angrily. Peter awkwardly rubbed his back, not being entirely great at comforting people. "Look, I'm sure they meant to... maybe they just forgot?" He tried aimlessly, because that for sure was not going to work. "No... they definitely didn't forget to tell me, they just didn't want me to know. Little fucker had to do that for himself." 

The letter was practically unreadable now - Alex's tears had soaked the page. It was hard, this sort of thing - Peter had never been on the receiving end of it. He may not have a father, but he had his two sisters, one of which even had kids, and he had his mum, he didn't need anyone else, but Alex? Alex had gone through many foster families, and was too scared to go back to the last one he'd had before Vietnam, saying that they wouldn't have welcomed him back. 

The letter in his hand held a few paragraphs written in the awful handwriting of one Scott Summers. Although they couldn't exactly read it now, it had said before that Scott had found Alex's photos, that he had begged and pleaded for his parents to give him an address, and when they couldn't give him one he'd searched up and down everywhere for one, and a year later in 1978, Alex finally received a letter from the twelve-year-old brother he'd never even known about. 

"I've missed everything," Alex whispered as more tears gathered in the crevices of his eyes. "I missed him learning to walk and talk, I missed him going into double digits, I don't even know this kid!" Alex was clearly getting overwhelmed, and Peter was at a loss for words, nothing he said would make any of this better, he knew that, but he also knew that there was a higher chance that he could say something that would definitely make it worse. 

This wasn't about Peter, but when Alex fell sideways into his arms, he felt it might be. Maybe this was where Peter gave Alex some sibling advice, or messed-up family advice, or helped him forget even for a little while; Peter wasn't sure. He sure as hell didn't expect Alex's next words: "I want you to come with me to meet him."

XX~•~•XX

"So you met Scott before Cairo?" Hank asked, moving to grab some painkillers off the side. Peter may not say when he's in pain, but Hank could tell. He knew the kid well enough by now, he knew when he didn't want to bother people. He let Peter keep talking, keep talking all about Alex in a way that brought tears to the older mutants eyes that he'd never let the speedster see. Hank passed over the ibuprofen and watched as Peter took them with lifeless eyes, his words turning to mumbles as he swallowed.

"Scott was a fun kid, we saw him a couple of times, actually. Obviously Alex went alone most of the time, but I'd go with him as well, sometimes." Peter shrugged, a small smile dancing on his lips. "I don't think he knew ever knew about us, though."

XX~•~•XX

"Why not? It could be fun!" Alex pleaded as he began to load his gear into the boot of his car - clearly he was going whether Peter wanted to or not. "Dude, its the last weekend of the decade, I'd rather do other shit than fishing." Peter laughed. "Don't you dare be calling me dude after waking up in my bed." Alex joked as he finally pulled the boot down. "Besides, its only for a day. You can spend the next entire decade doing random shit." Peter shrugged as Alex's arms wrapped around him tightly, letting his head fall onto the shorter man's shoulders. "And you could spend the next entire decade fishing... when its not freezing cold, nearly the middle of winter, and literally December." Peter loved the feeling of Alex's body shaking as he let out that laugh Peter loved so much, the one he'd first heard three years ago at Myla's and has been in love with ever since. 

"I just want to point out that I have gone to full on raves with you before, the least you could do is come fishing with me for a day." It was a whisper, but almost in a singsong tone, a tone that practically avoided Alex's voice at all costs. That was how Peter knew how important this was to him - he was letting his guard down.

"Just a day?" He sighed, a small smile on his face. Whether or not Alex was going to regret this decision was a different matter entirely - and he mostly likely would, because Peter had no clue how Alex expected him to be calm and silent for hours on end - but this was something his boyfriend of two years wanted to do, so Peter was going to do it. 

XX~•~•XX

It wasn't often that Gitter and Daniels weren't in the house, so Alex and Peter savoured every moment they had alone together. Moments like these, waking up in the same bed, wrapped tightly under the covers in each others arms, they were the best kind of moments. 

"I don't know how you wake up so early," Alex grumbled, turning over to face Peter with dreary eyes. Peter giggled slightly and moved his arm to lay across Alex's waist. "I don't wanna waste the day." He grinned. "You're not fucking wasting the day, you are taking advantage of it," Alex retorted with a smile on his face. In the beginning, Alex barely ever smiled, now Peter was getting them out of him the minute he woke up. "I want to take advantage of it physically." Peter smirked, throwing the covers back from over his body. "No, stay with me." Alex whined, voice going higher in a way it never would when he was fully awake. Peter loved waking up with Alex, he completely let himself go whilst he wasn't aware of himself, and Peter knew he shouldn't take advantage of it, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself. 

"Baby, its eight in the morning, lets go get breakfast." He opened his arms for Alex to shuffle into them and scooped him up against his chest. These were also some of Peter's favourite moments, when nobody was around to judge them and they could just... be. Gitter kept going on about tops and bottoms and subs and doms, even Daniels got very protective over essentially being the "man" in his relationship, in his own words. Peter and Alex didn't have that.

Peter let Alex down once they got to the kitchen, and the pair immediately began to work around the kitchen the way they always did, just without Gitter hogging up the space by the kettle and Daniels sat in a chair he'd decided to place in the very middle of the room. It got way more crowded when Scott slept over.

Alex began preparing some boiled eggs and toast as Peter made them both hot drinks, Irish coffee for Alex and decaf green tea for himself. "You've got to be the only person who actually likes this shit - whisky doesn't belong in coffee." Peter joked, placing the drinks down on placemats before going through the cupboards and finding some cutlery for Alex. "Hey, its good! You'd know that if coffee didn't make you fucking hyper." Alex stuck his tongue out childishly, placing the boiled eggs down on the plates as the toaster popped. 

As they both sat down to eat their breakfasts, Peter realised something, something he had felt for a long time but had never been able to voice. Now he knew the words, and he knew how hard it would be for both Alex and himself to hear them. They weren't natural, they weren't heard that often, and more often than not the person saying them didn't mean it. This was a big moment, a moment Peter decided instantly he didn't like as much as they others. He couldn't do anything with these words, its not like he could marry Alex, no matter how much he realised he wanted to. 

On the other hand, maybe his mother wouldn't like him marrying a man nine years older than himself, even though she'd come around on the idea of it being a man (finally). Still, Peter was twenty-four, they were in a new decade, maybe things would get better.

"Alex, I love you."

XX~•~•XX

Peter decided that things would not get better.

The disease had broken out, and Alex had decided that now was a good time to go to college. Peter knew he had no right to be mad - Alex had saved up for years, he had always wanted some form of complete education, and clearly high school was now out of the question. 

Case after case after case, people dying left right and centre - people like them. Pneumonia they called it, well, Peter had had pneumonia before, and he'd certainly never seen anything like this. 

Only gay people caught it, that's what people took from the Lawrence Mass article. The CDC reports didn't help, either. The New York Times only amplified the suggestion that only homosexuals could catch, but that was all bullshit. How could a disease only spread to members of that community? And why only the men? Most people said it was God's way of punishing them, most people said they deserved it. 

And now Alex was leaving, and Peter was by himself in a world that seemed to be out to kill him. It was selfish, Peter completely understood that, that it was selfish to feel the way he did. He could be doing what Alex was doing, he could be going off to college, the same one if he really wanted to, but whilst Alex had been out there earning money for himself, to help pay rent and the bills as well as college savings, birthdays and Christmas gifts, small things for himself, Peter had struggled to pay the rent to his own mother, and didn't bother with much else; he pretty much stole everything. 

"If this is going to be such a problem for you, maybe we should take a break for a year, and when I come back, we can decide where we stand."

And that was that.

XX~•~•XX

He caught it. Of course he fucking caught it. 

A break he'd suggested? Clearly Alex hadn't taken a break. He'd played a game with the devil, a game that was damn near impossible to win, and he'd lost. Of course he'd fucking lost.

Peter didn't know what to do - he couldn't do anything. He could make Alex take his meds, he could try and keep him happy and alive for as long as possible, make these last few years worth it. Apparently HIV turned to AIDS within ten years, so maybe they'd be able to fight it? Nobody fought it and won though, that's just the way it was. Nothing anybody could do about. 

"I love you," Alex whispered as he and Peter got ready for bed. Peter could try and make an effort, they only had six weeks of summer before Alex had to go back. Peter knew Alex meant it, he knew what truth sounded like in Alex's voice, and he knew how hard those words were to say, to hear, just like they'd always been. 

"I love you too."

XX~•~•XX

"I have to tell Scott," Peter whispered, eyeing Hank wearily. "He has to know the truth." Hank sighed, moving to sit down in the chair beside Peter. "You know he doesn't blame you, right? Peter, nobody blames you." Peter shrugged, just as emotionless as ever. "Maybe not, but I still feel that way."

Suddenly, the door flew open, revealing Scott on the other side. "Jean..." He whispered as tears streamed down his face. He fell forwards, crashing into any nearby metal equipment. He laid still on the floor as soon as he landed, the quiet tears turning into hacking sobs. Neither Hank nor Peter needed to be a telepath to know what was going on. 

Hank raced over, pulling Scott's head into his lap as he whispered comforting thoughts - not unlike ones he'd spoken to Alex multiple times throughout nightmares after Cuba - and glanced back towards Peter.

"Scott, do you want to hear some stories?" Peter asked weakly, eyes drooping slightly. Scott's wails didn't slow or stop or lessen, but the nodding of his head was unmissable.

"Well, I met him in a bar in Westview..."


End file.
